


The Ramifications of Survival

by Star_Going_Supernova



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: (depending on how you look at it), Aftermath of Escaping the Studio, Alternate Universe - 2D Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Gen, Halloween, Inspired by Fanart, Poor Henry, but could just as easily be unrelated, i love that i can write him as being so calm and it’s not totally ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 02:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Going_Supernova/pseuds/Star_Going_Supernova
Summary: Maybe some things are inescapable after all.Or; you can take Henry out of the studio, but you can’t take the studio out of Henry.





	The Ramifications of Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by these Halloween costumes: http://shinyzango.tumblr.com/post/166654039065/hohohohohohohoh-i-sure-had-a-lot-of-fun-with. (This is so self-indulgent, it’s not even funny.)
> 
> I basically screamed when I saw these works of art, and I knew I just HAD to do something with them. I might have taken this in a slightly darker direction than the original concepts, but I’ve always liked stories when there were (as the title says) little ramifications of surviving through horrific circumstances. Nothing that leaves the story unresolved, just a little something not unlike a battle scar; a way to remember, almost.

Bendy laughed at a joke one of the kids made, having to set his carving knife to the side so he wouldn’t mess up his pumpkin’s design. Across the table from him, Alice’s halo flared with her giggles. 

Their neighborhood had blocked off one of the cul-de-sacs for the annual pumpkin carving event for the kids and any teenagers willing to participate. The adults had all worked together to get cider and donuts set up off to the side, and to make sure that everyone who wanted to join in had a pumpkin of their own. Most of the kids were armed with plastic carving supplies, while those too young to safely wield a sharp utensil had one of their parents helping them. 

Bendy, like Alice and Boris, had an actual kitchen knife, entrusted to them by Henry— and only after they promised they wouldn’t let any of the kids get ahold of the sharp tools. 

As the table’s laughter died down, Bendy looked around at all the smiling faces. It had been the end of April when the four of them had finally escaped the studio once and for all, introducing the toons to the world as the seasons transitioned from spring to summer. 

The rain had made them wary at first, but with the proper gear, it hadn’t been long until they’d been out stomping in puddles and watching the flowers flourish. By the time school let out, the toons had made friends with all the kids in the neighborhood. The parents and other assorted adults needed a little more time to adjust, but once they had— well, Bendy couldn’t have imagined a better happy ending to his and Henry’s hellish misadventures in the animator’s former workplace.

By all accounts, life in the real world— far, _far_ away from Joey Drew Studios— was perfect. 

Except…

Bendy twisted around in his chair to where he instinctually knew Henry to be, a feeling born from a combination of their bond and a constant awareness of where the man was at any given time. He was standing behind two of the few teenagers to join in on the fun, complimenting their designs. There was nothing _wrong_ , per se, about the picture Henry made. 

But when Bendy’s eyes traveled lower, to where the bright sun overhead was casting Henry’s shadow on the pavement…

It was nothing that humans could see. Even to him— Alice and Boris, too— the shape seemed to flicker, like it wasn’t totally there. Like it just hadn’t settled. 

Yet. 

There were other signs that something was wrong, ones that came earlier. In certain lighting, one could almost swear that Henry’s eyes had little pie-cut notches in them. Those notions had been easily dismissed as nothing more than a glare hitting his face just right. And every now and then, Henry’s bright blue irises looked black, but that was easily explained by how human pupils grew and shrank.

It wasn’t until they’d noticed the third peculiarity that they had realized there might be something more going on. 

Ever since escaping the studio, the four of them had been all too happy to find any reason to laugh and smile. It wasn’t hard, either. But sometimes… well, sometimes Henry’s smiles were just a little too large. And not in the good way. Moments like those, his teeth seemed the slightest bit sharper, the crease at the corner of his mouth the slightest bit more wickedly curled.

The three toons had tried to come up with a word to describe it once, shortly after they first noticed it; they’d cycled through terms like exaggeration and over-enthusiastic before things took a turn for the silly, resulting in words jokingly suggested like insane or deranged. It hadn’t been until Bendy had laughingly added _demonic_ to the growing list that they’d all frozen in realization. 

They’d gone to Henry then, scared and worried for him; turned out, he’d noticed too. 

Henry had heaved a great sigh, gently pulling them all closer, encouraging them to fit into their customary places tucked in around him in his armchair. “I’ll be honest,” he’d said once they were settled. “I would’ve more been surprised if I actually made it out without any—” he had considered his word choice carefully, finally settling on, “side effects.”

“What do we do?” Alice had asked tearfully. 

With as best a shrug as he could manage, covered in toons, Henry had told them, “The only thing we can do. Take it day by day.”

They’d tried, but Henry was their Creator, and he knew them better than anyone else ever had. 

After a few days of being tip-toed around, he’d finally cornered them in the kitchen to give them some much needed reassurance. 

“There’s not enough of it,” he’d said, “to do to me what happened to Susie with ‘Alice.’ Whatever it is, there will never be enough to overpower me. It shows itself in little ways, like my eyes, but it will never be more than that unless I let it.” 

It was easier, then, to take things day by day like Henry wanted, and just never mention the times Henry’s laughter sounded a little too hysterical. 

The approach of Halloween also meant the approach of the six month anniversary of their escape. For the past week or so, Henry’s shadow hadn’t looked right. And none of the three of them knew whether or not they should bring it up. 

“Bendy?” 

He turned back to the table. It seemed only Alice had noticed where his attention had gone, and she was looking at him worriedly. 

“Day by day,” Bendy said, only loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Just gotta take it day by day.” 

With a tiny nod to each other, they went back to work on their pumpkins. 

• • • • •

By the time October 30th hit, Henry’s house was one of the most decorated on the block. While he’d always done a little something for the trick-or-treaters, this was the first time it looked like a Halloween superstore had barfed all over his lawn.

“I don’t know what’s more impressive: the disturbingly detailed graveyard, or the giant spider on the roof.” 

Bendy beamed up at him; he was proud of that graveyard. “Have you seen the ones in the back yet?” 

Henry tilted his head down at the little demon. “You decorated— but why? No one’s going to see it.” 

“Eh,” Bendy toed the ground and gave a sheepish shrug. “The stones back there are a bit more personal. Y’know, studio workers and such. Hope that’s okay.” 

“That’s just fine, bud. Now c’mon. There’s something I’ve got to talk to you guys about.” Henry pushed open the little plastic gate at the edge of the front walk and gestured Bendy in first.

Once inside, the three toons were gathered onto the living room couch, Henry standing in front of them. 

“Is something wrong?” Alice asked. 

Henry hesitated briefly. “Not exactly, but I suppose this is serious. I said that I was still thinking about my costume for tomorrow; well, I’ve decided.”

Bendy scooted forward. Like every time the topic was brought up, he said, “Is it me? It’s me isn’t it.”

Boris shoved his head. “Of course it’s not you.”

Alice laughed, watching as they got into a brief slap-fight.  
  
“Actually…”

The three toons’ heads whipped back to Henry. “What?”

Sighing, he kneeled down before the couch. “It’s _kind of_ Bendy. Okay, listen, I’ve been talking to the thing inside me—”

Boris gasped and Alice recoiled. Bendy leaned forward and demanded, “You can talk to it? It’s not hurting you, right?”

Frowning slightly, Henry tilted his head back and forth. “Eh, it can’t… talk exactly. It’s more emotion based, like— y’know how sometimes you get a little niggling feeling in the back of your head? When you think you’re forgetting something, or you’re about to do something you know is wrong?”  
  
They nodded.

Henry smiled slightly. “It’s like that, almost. And I haven’t mentioned this part, because I knew it would only worry you guys, but I’ve had a headache for over a week now that I know it’s more or less causing.”  
  
“Henry!” they all cried together.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m sorry, really, I am. But there was nothing any of you could’ve done and I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary panic. Besides, it and I have… figured out a possible solution.”

“Oh _no,_ ” Bendy moaned. He collapsed against the couch back in exaggerated despair. “We aren’t gonna like this, I can already tell.”

Henry sucked in a deep breath before shaking his head. “No. Uh, no you aren’t.”

• • • • • 

The next night, their house was a favorite among the kids. They had the good kind of candy— none of those cheap-o knockoffs or anything. 

In the front yard, surrounded by gravestones, Bendy— with fangs protruding from his mouth and a devil-winged cape hanging around his shoulders, collar popped up around his non-existent neck— entertained a sizable group of kids with horror stories, changing into his crooked-horned monster form for the in-story jumpscare every time. Even the teenagers were enjoying themselves, laughing and teasing each other when they startled or gasped.

Boris wandered up and down the street, telling anyone who asked that he was a werewolf. When they inevitably said that he didn’t look so scary, or if the kids asked to see his other form, he shifted his ink into a hulking version of himself, the specially added elastic bands of his overalls stretching to accommodate his shoulders. Many of the adults stumbled backwards in surprise, but the children never failed to devolve into shrieking giggles of delight. 

Wearing a black dress with rips at the hem and sleeves that dipped low, Alice stood in the cul-de-sac, once again blocked off for treats and games. Little bats with angel wings and heart-shaped bodies fluttered around her pointed witch hat. She would wiggle her her fingers and tell people, “Magic!” when they asked how she was doing it.

And even as the three of them celebrated, their eyes occasionally strayed towards their home, where Henry was handing out candy and chatting with the adults whose kids were gathered around Bendy. 

Henry wore an inky black suit with an oversized white bow-tie and gloves with shiny dark ovals on the backs. His smile was more twisted than ever, and Bendy could hear the neighbors compliment him on his black, pie-cut contacts; neither he nor Henry told them that he wasn’t wearing contacts. The pure white of his hair stuck up and out from the front of his head like horns.

Behind him, his devil-shadow— clear and crisp; settled— smiled at anyone who stared long enough. 

In the morning, when Henry hadn’t left his bedroom by lunch, the toons snuck through his door, armed with their candy stashes. He laid there, more asleep than awake. When prodded, he groggily told them that the headache he’d been dealing with was gone, and that the _thing_ inside him wasn’t pushing to escape anymore— it didn’t have to; even sitting up in bed, his shadow grinned at them.

For the rest of the day, the toons didn’t leave him alone.

• • • • •

Maybe there are consequences to spending days upon weeks trapped in a fume-filled studio, wading through ink that held the potential for life in every last drop. Maybe there are things that would happen to humans who lingered too long; maybe their humanity itself would become forfeit. Maybe— in that final confrontation with ‘Bendy,’ when Henry killed it once and for all— Henry swallowed some of the demon’s ink as its body dissolved and splashed down over him. Maybe you can leave the studio, but— no matter how far and fast you run— little bits and pieces of the studio never leave you.

Maybe, as the years pass and pass and pass, the white of Henry’s hair never spreads further, the pie-cut eyes never stop swimming in his sclera, and the shadow behind him never stops smiling.

Maybe-just-maybe, Joey Drew’s idea of cheating death wasn’t so silly after all. 

But was it— could it be— worth it?

(If you asked the toons, they’d glance around, making sure Henry wasn’t within earshot; he was sensitive about this stuff, not quite sure how to feel about the _thing_ that was keeping his body frozen in time. Once they were sure he wasn’t nearby, they’d lean forward a little bit and say, “It’s always worth it, when it means he’ll never leave us.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Ten years down the line, Henry will be bitter about his situation. Twenty years down the line, Henry will be weary but resigned. Thirty, forty, fifty years down the line, Henry will look at the toons— with the knowledge that he shouldn’t be there with them— and say with absolute certainty, “It was worth it.”


End file.
